


What Happens at Band Camp

by IHaveNoLife (JustBritish)



Category: South Park
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:03:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustBritish/pseuds/IHaveNoLife
Summary: The kids of South Park, now fourteen, have only two things on their minds: summer vacation and marching band. After miraculously surviving the eighth grade, the teens are anxious to see what's so special about the mythical experience of marching band. There's adventure to be had, romance to explore, sunburns to suffer from, and Cartman being, well, Cartman. Will they be able to persevere through band's hardships? Or will band camp be the end of Park County High School's newest recruits?





	What Happens at Band Camp

“Finally! I thought school would never end.”

“Hey Jewboy! Are you seriously going to that pussy band camp?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Cartman!”

“Besides, dude. We’re all going to band camp. We kinda have to. We’re in marching band.”

“At least I don't play a girl instrument!”

“The trumpet isn't a girl instrument.”

“I wasn't talking to you, Stan!”

“The clarinet isn't a girl instrument either, Fatass!”

“What are you guys talking about?”

The four boys halted before turning around to see Tweek Tweak, hand-in-hand with the one and only Craig Tucker. Kyle was the first one to acknowledge the two boys with a friendly wave. Stan and Kenny both nodded their heads in a silent greeting, Craig reciprocating the gesture. Cartman said nothing, just stood like the tub of lard that he is. 

“Band Camp,” Kyle answered with a kind smile. 

The kids of South Park were no longer kids, ten-year-olds being replaced by fourteen-year-olds. The now teens of South Park looked quite different. 

Kyle’s wild red curls had mellowed and turned to waves of lava that he began to pull into a small low ponytail. He had ditched his green ushanka, but adopted thick, black framed glasses that were always perched on his pale nose. His orange and green jacket was also gone, as well as his gloves, replaced by red flannel hung haphazardly over band tees or tied around his waist, rubber bands and colorful bracelets adorning his wrists. 

Stan's raven hair was messy under the navy blue tuque that replaced his blue and red snow-cap. His blue eyes stood out from his fairly-tan skin. Replacing his old brown and red jacket was a variety of hoodies and pullover sweatshirts in a multitude of colors. Other than his slight wardrobe change, Stan Marsh was still very much Stan Marsh.

Kenny no longer donned an orange parka, instead opting for an orange t-shirt with tattered jeans. His tawny hair was mussed atop his head, falling over crystal blue eyes and the tan skin of his forehead. His wrists also had multicolor bracelets, though not as many as Kyle.

Cartman, well, he hadn't changed. He was still a fat fuck with dull, dirt-colored hair and dull, shit-colored eyes. So he didn't have his turquoise hat or his red coat, but he still wore obnoxious and racist tees and was, overall, still an asshole.

Tweek had taken a liking to his shoulder-length golden hair, always pulling it back with black hair ties and keeping his long bangs out of his lively green eyes and pale face with multicolored barrettes, his dark grey tuque perched haphazardly over the soft blonde locks. His old, olive button-up was replaced by soft pullover sweaters– not quite sweatshirts, but not regular t-shirts either. His favorite one– which  ehe was wearing that day– was the soft, forest green sweater that Craig had bought him, the one with sleeves that covered his palms and had holes for his thumbs. 

Hell, even good old monotonous Craig was different. His messy black hair was no longer hidden under his blue chullo. Some of it was actually falling into his face, dark strands falling over his dark blue eyes. His blue jacket and black jeans were replaced by solid colored t-shirts or a navy blue pullover and dark blue or washed and worn denim jeans. His arms were bare except for a braided leather bracelet around his left wrist.

Tweek's eyes seemed to light up. “Are you excited?”

Kyle nodded with mellow exuberance. “Hell yeah!”

The boys resumed their walking with the other two, Kyle and Tweek conversing excitedly about the best clarinet reeds. 

That’s right. The two boys played the woodwind instrument known as the clarinet. And they were proud of it. Tweek had also convinced Craig to join their growing cult of woodwinds, the taller boy finding the bass clarinet to be his calling. Cartman had stuck with the French Horn, but Stan had swayed more towards the shining brass of a well-oiled trumpet and Kenny found his passion in percussion. 

The boys ended up reaching the neighborhood, splitting off one by one to their respective homes, Craig and Tweek being greeted by Laura Tucker as they entered the Tucker residence. Cartman bumbled into his house mumbling about food. Kenny kept walking towards his home in Sodosopa while Stan and Kyle trotted up the steps of the Marsh residence. Stan greeted his mother before wandering up the carpeted stairs with Kyle following closely behind him. 

“What do you think band camp will be like?” Kyle questioned, lying on his back on his boyfriend’s blue comforter. Yes, boyfriend. But nobody really knew about it. They didn't tell people for fear of all the special treatment and publicity that Tweek and Craig had. Sure, the two seemed happy, but even then they had said that the attention was sometimes uncomfortable. He sighed just thinking about it. He ran his hands through his red curls, which were slightly splayed around him, hair tie on his wrist joining the beaded bracelets and rubber bands. His dark green eyes were calculating as he pressed imaginary keys, producing soundless music. 

“I don't know, dude,” the ravenette replied. He was running through his own routine of notes, three imaginary brass valves under his fleeting touch. He could almost feel the cool metal valves laying underneath his calloused fingertips. “We still need our music and we definitely need to get in shape.” He poked Kyle’s soft stomach while chuckling. Kyle giggled before gently shoving his hand away. 

Meanwhile, Tweek and Craig were jogging through the neighborhood. Tweek was outrunning Craig in his gym shorts and loose white t-shirt. Craig, however, was wearing basketball shorts and a navy blue tank-top. There was no talking, the only sound being their slightly labored breathing. However, they ran hand-in-hand, refusing to let go. The citizens saw them as a cute lovey-dovey couple, but, in reality, they were trying to see who could bring who to the ground first. Sure, they loved each other, but what’s love without war?

Kyle looked out the window and spotted Craig sprinting after Tweek before catching up and throwing the then struggling blonde over his shoulder and continuing to run. The two were damn strong, he’d give them that, what with Tweek’s boxing and Craig’s hefty bass clarinet. He turned his gaze back towards Stan, who was spinning in his desk chair, just staring at the ceiling.

Kyle shifted on the bed before leaning over the side and hoisting up a black, rectangular case that was no bigger than a mailbox. He ran his pale fingers over the silver latches and textured plastic of the seemingly ordinary case. Inside, however, was what could have been his most treasured possession: a sleek wooden clarinet. He could imagine the seven black wooden sections sitting in their molded compartments, waiting in soft blue velvet. The shining silver keys were polished to perfection, waiting to be felt by the nimble, pale digits of their owner. He slowly lifted the latches and opened the mundane case and was met by soft blue velvet and dark wood and shining silver. He quietly sighed as he ran his sensitive fingertips over the cold metal keys. He contently studied the instrument for any imaginary imperfections and paused once he reached the barrel, the etched golden letters staring up at him. He jumped in surprise when he felt a somewhat large hand suddenly rest on his narrow shoulder. He whirled around to find Stan watching him intently. 

Kyle flushed before quietly asking, “Y-yeah?”

“It’s almost four and mom was wondering if you were staying for dinner.”

Kyle was surprised to find that almost half an hour had passed. “Sure, dude,” he replied, a bright smile inching its way across his face. He nodded towards a small overnight bag beside his backpack. “I was planning on staying the night, too. My mother already agreed to it.”

Stan grinned before rushing out the door. Kyle sat on the soft comforter, examining the picture frames on Stan’s bedside table. He smiled as he remembered each moment. The first was a photo of him and Stan, both beaming at the camera, with the raven haired boy’s arm laying across his shoulders. It was probably one of the oldest ones, seeing as the green ushanka was pulled down over his red curls. The next was also of him and Stan, probably a few years older, along with Kenny and Butters. The four of them had gone to a beach in California over the summer. They had wanted nothing to do with Cartman, so they invited Butters to replace him. Kyle frowned as he remembered when they had shunned Butters because he was “too naïve,” but began to lovingly smile at the photo, remembering that Stan had asked him out on that trip. The third photo definitely brought back memories: Kyle, Stan, Tweek, Craig, Kenny, Butters, and Cartman were sitting on a soft gray blanket beside Stark’s Pond. Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and Craig had their legs stretched out in front of them, leaning back with their arms propping them up. Tweek had his head on Craig’s chest, leaning into him with his thin legs curled. Butters was sitting next to Kenny with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his shins. His fluffy blonde hair was blown around by the cool summer breeze. Kyle was almost touching Stan, fully laying down, arms crossed and propped behind his head. They all had their heads tilted upwards, gazing at the night sky. The vast expanse of stars shone brightly overhead in their secluded little mountain town, creating a romantic scene and making that summer night one to remember. 

Kyle quickly turned away from the photos when Stan bolted through the door. He gave the ravenette a questioning stare, quirking an eyebrow. The boy was out of breath, but smiled and nodded in affirmation.

“Mom’s fine with it.”

They both grinned at each other before Stan shuffled over to his desk and turned on his PC, sitting down in his spinning black office chair. He glanced at Kyle, who remained standing, and patted his lap, wiggling his eyebrows and giving a suggestive wink before they both erupted into fits of laughter. However, instead of ignoring Stan’s actions and pulling over another chair or simply sitting next to him, Kyle followed through and sat down on Stan’s denim covered knee, looking back at Stan’s flushed face and letting his lips quirk upwards into a small smile. He leaned back to let his back touch Stan’s chest as Stan logged in to whatever game he would be playing. Just by looking at the screen, Kyle guessed that it was the weird octopus game that Stan was so addicted to. Kyle was proven to be correct by the shouts of rage that Stan was emitting whenever the little octopus in a blue suit twirled on one tentacle or fell into a fire. 

The redhead laughed and the other boys misery when the little yellow octopus fell off a flimsy, digital wooden plank. The two were so caught up in the game that they didn't realize that minutes were quickly becoming hours.

“Boys, dinner!”

Mrs. Marsh snapped them out of their reverie and they glanced at one another with mild surprise before standing and practically trampling Shelly as they thundered down the carpeted hallway and leapt down the steps to the living room, three or four at a time. They sprinted into the pristine dining room out of breath and sat down at the long wooden table side-by-side, Kyle sitting across from Shelly and Stan across from his father. Mrs. Marsh set a platter of chicken near the table’s center. Afterward, she set out a bowl of garden salad with ranch dressing and a bowl of mashed potatoes. 

“This looks wonderful, Mrs. Marsh.”

She looked flattered before waving it off with a flippant, “It’s nothing, really.”

They ate in a somewhat awkward silence that gradually became conversations about work, school, and miscellaneous subjects in pop culture and politics. During one of said political talks, Randy brought up his PC group and gay marriage laws in Colorado. Kyle glanced over at Stan after hearing the boy cough and was met with a blushing face and startled blue eyes. Kyle knew that Stan’s parents and his own parents were accepting of the LGBT+ community, but they didn't know how their parents would react if the two boys came out with their relationship. They were the best of friends, that much they knew, but they were also so much more. 

Stan watched as Kyle nibbled at the leafy green lettuce on his fork. He himself was eating a chicken leg with a certain urgency, scarfing it down like there was no tomorrow. His mother asked them about what they planned for the week before Mini Camp. 

“I was really just planning on hanging out with Stan or Kenny. I was also going to get some new reeds with Tweek tomorrow. That’s really it. My parents are heading over to Connecticut with my brother to visit my Aunt and cousin.”

“How is Sheila?” Mrs. Marsh asked.

“She’s doing well, thank you.”

“And how’s Gerald?” asked Randy.

Kyle sighed at the mention of his father. “Same old dad. Hasn’t really changed.”

The rest of the food was eaten with Mrs. Marsh, Randy, Grandpa Marsh, and Shelly debating one thing or another. Stan managed to subtly reach over and grasp Kyle’s hand within his own, giving it a slight squeeze. Stan was relieved when Kyle immediately squeezed back.


End file.
